Five ways to die
by Nobody's Normal
Summary: He was wrong about everything. I guess it was a talent.- mirror story of 'your ex-lover is dead' from Harry's POV.
1. Expectations

~every story needs a contrary opinion~

_Chapter's soundtrack : And then you by Greg Laswell_

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Chapter 1: Expectations

Expectations are divided into two subcategories: The expectations you have of yourself, and the expectations others have of you. Both can kill you, and it seems to me now that they are the root of all evil. Gigantic trees of self-loathing with branches frosty and sharp, roots huge and feeding on life's possibilities. Possibilities are in fact drenched in expectations. Oh the way it all clicks together in my head reminds me so much of you, bordering on paranoia. I smile.

I am not you, though.

I am Harry Potter.

I feel the urge to sneer.

So much for the title of the untouchable hero. The Boy who Lived- twice. What a load of crap. Is there a special kind of earth to cover dead heroes? I wouldn't care anyway. I hope that in death, at least, no one will expect anything from me. Yeah, yeah, I'm whining again. Wouldn't you? No?

Okay.

I bought a new pack of cigarettes today. You should have seen Ginny's face. She went crazy. She kept yelling at me for what seemed like hours.

And I kept looking at the pack. Just…staring at it. I can't help it, I swear! It has me mesmerized.

It was a Tuesday when I quit it, and a rainy one at that. I was walking by our old apartment, on the paved, narrow streets, by the little pots of jasmine at the windows, by the corner behind that forgotten beetle-car where the Belle de Nuit used to grow back when we were together…You would smell it and say we should uproot it, it was causing you a headache, and I would say you were a disgrace to poets and lovers, and you would say you had no need for them – and then you'd kiss me up against that poor moonflower, and I would take pity in it and have you stop, but it would remain the same despite our late night exhibitions anyway.

Our neighborhood looks like a slum these days.

So yes, it's been a long time since I last smoked. Years. I just opened the dumpster in the corner of Amelia Street on that rainy day and threw my tobacco out. The Healers had said that in order to stop my disease from progressing, I had to quit smoking. They couldn't fight a muggle disease with potions, unless I gave up the habit they said. Or something like that. I was going to get married at last. I wouldn't have my wife suffer. A fresh start. Yes. I threw my pack out.

_Hogwarts ended just like it had begun for me. Confusion, uncertainty and the burden of thousands of eyes and expectations resting upon my shoulders. Only this time, I was in love._

_With you. The grey eyes and wicked smile, the way your white-blond hair would sway as you nodded goodbye to your dorm mates. I was watching you, yes. And then you turned, locking serious eyes with mine. I blushed. What else was there for me to do after all those late night rendezvous? I think blushing was a logical course of action. This was goodbye. So yeah, whatever. I should be allowed to feel like blushing. I lowered my eyes. _

_The first thing that I saw was your black, polished shoes in front of me. My heart expressed a sudden urge to escape my chest right then and there. I raised my gaze to face you. Your eyes sparkled, and you took a small bow before me. All the Slytherin's eyes were on you, and I felt a need to warn you about that. I suppressed it._

_You extended your hand in front of me with a playful, yet kind of faltering, smile. _

"_I guess this is it" you said. _

_I did not take your hand. I would never accept a simple goodbye handshake from a man that had fucked me on every possible surface of the castle. _

"_Says who?" I answered. You frowned._

"_Common sense?" your chuckles were always annoying. _

"_Couldn't care less"_

_You smiled. Looking back, I don't know where my courage was coming from in those moments._

"_I will owl you" I said and you nodded, moving away already. You raised the back of your hand in agreement. _

"_I do owe you my life" you remarked in a carefree voice, and I watched your back as you walked away and mingled with the crowd, feeling as if the world was a bunch of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach._

_Little did I know the image of your back moving away from me would become a quite common occurrence._

_But the truth is that the day was sunny and the sun was warm. And I loved you._

No matter how many times I think about it, it makes no sense. You and me – no sense. Synonyms. Have you ever thought how it'd be if you could shut the world off and live in your happy little bubble? Not for a moment or two. For months. For years even. That was what I wanted. A reality where no one expected anything from me, not even myself.

I run and I run and I run away from myself, but it turns out I was always at the same spot treading upon my dignity. Because….because you never run out of expectations.

Suddenly, you weren't enough. Your smiles were too fake, too mean, too cocky. Your eyes were cold and not that beautiful. Your hair was more white than blonde. Your feelings were compromise and not love.

My mind was trying to disentangle myself from you while my heart was taking its sweet time weeping.

If I start smoking again, I will have signed my damnation.

_"Potter!" he calls out and I freeze in my tracks. "Nice couch"_

The bastard.

If I light this smoke I might regret it.

But the truth is that the day is shitty and the sun is nowhere to be seen. And I still love you.


	2. We set out to simply be

_Chapter's soundtrack: PJ Harvey,Thom Yorke-This Mess We're In_

**Expectations: We set out to simply be.**

I find it extremely comforting to trace back our relationship, believing that this time I'll find the mistake, the source, the reason it all went down the plughole. Why is that considered comforting? I could give you an insane number of reasons, but I'll go with 'because nothing better is actually coming along'.

It's snowing. I'm sitting down in the balcony, smoking the same brand of tobacco I used to smoke back then. It's a perfect night to reminisce: freezing cold, the air carrying the smell of burning wood and freshly-made cookies from the nearby houses. With a silent chuckle and another pull on my smoke I recall that our place never smelled like this. You never cooked, and I always sucked at it. At Christmas I would grumble about how we were the only ones unable to pull off a christmassy atmosphere and you would drag me out in the balcony and say I could just sniff the air and I would be content till next year.

I would pout and stare at you as if trying to infuse my annoyance in your skin, but I'd stop and smile once I'd see how much you enjoyed standing out there in December's cold winds, your eyes closed and your thin shirt open. I would wrap my arms around you, feeling a need to protect you so terrible that it was bringing tears to my eyes.

For the record, you would never get sick.

_It was in the 8__th__ year of Hogwarts when it all began. _

_Your return was a silent one. You slithered back in the dungeons and hid amongst the repenting Slytherins, lowering your head every time you would see me looking your way. It must have felt terrible, owing me your life. _

_But there was something more than that there, and I wanted to know what. You had not given my identity away. You had saved me. Bought me time that day at the Manor. Why? I couldn't work it out, and it was killing me. Staring at you wasn't helping me understand. That was until that day in class when you turned around to find me, eyes resting on you, lost in thought. You held my gaze and my pulse began to hammer at my ears. You frowned, bit your lip and turned around again._

_From that day on, it was a battle of stares. You were reluctant to hold my eyes for long at first, but seeing as I wasn't planning to stop, you caught up quite easily. Your eyes were insanely cold, your expression serious and incomprehensible and I used to wonder if the fire in my veins would be enough to melt the Ice Prince of Slytherin._

_You found me in the library one night. Your voice came out of the darkness like a wake up call, spooking me out of my trance. I raised my head and saw you standing by the last row of shelves, looking pale and dressed in alluring darkness. You were an ex-death eater and a coward, but the thing you were above all else was beautiful. _

"_Old habits die hard, right, Potter?" you made an effort at smiling. You regretted it almost immediately and coughed to clear your throat._

"_I guess" I answered. You stepped closer and we stood in silence for a long time, gazing out the huge windows. The moon looked like a __tangerine__ slice, hanging nonchalantly above the new world. My hands and feet were feeling weak._

"_You know I…well…I…" I looked at you, worrying your were going to make that wonderful lip bleed pretty soon. "I…never got to say…erm…oh Merlin" you sounded mad at yourself about the fact that the actual words weren't coming out of your mouth._

"_It' s ok. You would have done the same" I said. You arched your brow._

"_would I have?"_

"_You did." There. I had said it._

"_Oh" was the only answer I ever got. A long silence followed._

"_why do you keep looking at me?" I understood that was my chance, one of those 'now of never' moments. I took it._

_I leaned in slowly and placed my lips on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. You remained in place, your eyes still glued to the red moon above. My lips found your ear, lingering there for an insanely big amount of time, listening to your breathing accelerate. And then, against my better knowledge, I whispered the three words that would change my life forever._

"_I want you" _

_I only had time to register the deep throaty growl coming from you before I was lifted and placed on the desk, your mouth attached to my neck and your hands gripping my ass for dear life. It was the most powerful thing I had ever felt, and I'm still trying to find the words to tell myself why, specify what had made this so special, but the only conclusion I come to is that...it was you. It was impossible, unthinkable, destructive, masochistic, and words are not even close to describing what your husky moans were doing to me._

_Everyone would expect that I'd embrace the normality I never had in my life. Even I had thought I would. But truth be told, when you're finally there, and you've run too long to get 'there', you might as well keep going. Because the fall is always sweet in the form of a kiss and uncontrollable desire. I cherish falling. I'm always free while I fall._

_You rutting against me wasn't going to allow me to last long, and it didn't. I came with a moan and a bite delivered at your jaw line, sinking my nails into your flesh and repeating things that made no sense. You lowered your head and disentangled yourself from me. I grabbed your shirt._

"_Where do you think you're going?"_

"_You…" noble was not a side of the Malfoys I had seen until that moment._

"_Yes, I did. Does that mean you won't claim your share?"_

_Your eyes darkened and my world was taken by force, destroyed and rebuilt in one night._

Draco Malfoy. The bane of my existence. The worst cigarette I have ever rolled is an ode to you.

This and the lark keeping me company tonight.

London is a cold town. Sitting here in this moment, feeling dizzy and weak, smoking this slow death with a clear conscience, it seems quite likely that I live in a crystal Christmas ball, and you're the little kid that keeps shaking it, simply to watch it snow down upon me.

I know my wife expects me to be a good husband and father. I know I wanted to be. But once again, most of all, I wanted to be with you. I have betrayed her time and time again. I have lost count of the times, but the hell with it all, Draco Malfoy showed up at my doorstep with a smoke in his hand, holding my gaze and granting me bitter comments.

How can you deny a snarky Malfoy. No one ever did.

The lark falls silent and my cigarette burns out. I throw it away and watch it draw half a circle in the air before it falls into white, wet limbo. I smile.

Yes, I cherish falling. I'm always free until I hit the ground.

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_I hope this is decent enough to be dedicated to the writer whose floors I dream of mopping when I grow up. I hope. I do hope. :) Dedicated to Never A Morning Person  
_


	3. Pieces of Heaven

_Chapter's soundtrack : Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah _

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Ignorance: Pieces of Heaven

We were created for a purpose we never found out; we were tormented for a cause we never quite grasped. Our souls are in pieces and we never actually want to accept it, we tell ourselves we have everything one would ever ask for, but that 'one' is a shadow-person and there are times we feel there's a conspiracy against us, deciding our life patters and creating our goals.

Sure, there were happy moments in my life that are still worth remembering, but sadly, most of them include _you_. And you are gone now, aren't you? You tried so hard to be left behind it would be almost cruel to not grant your wish. That's what I always did. I gave you what you needed. I wanted to make you happy, but you were a being of destruction, you know. You had it crawling under your skin, and I guess some of it crept under mine as well over the years. It's still lurking there, waiting for me to break down. And when that happens it's set free and I can't recognize myself.

I want to see you one last time. And I know I am going to, because I always did what I wanted and you always did what you shouldn't. It was twisted, our whole relationship. I should have known that what begins with passion for restraint shall end in sorrow. The taste of the forbidden is never overrated, you can never get enough. But like all things, these feelings will come to pass. You will be left alone with your conventional life, you, a creature made for the hunt, and you'll mourn, mourn for your cowardice, disappear in the memory of a past so glorious it could never be repeated.

"_Will you share this smoke with me?"_

_I raised my hand, holding out the cigarette. You looked at me, your hands in your pockets and a surprised look on your face. You made no move to take it. I kept my hand still, knowing that if I let go it would all be lost. You frowned and looked away from me and out of the window again._

"_You know I hate smoking"_

"_Just, please. One drag"_

"_What for? Stop acting stupid" _

_You left the room right then and there, and I doubt you ever realized the importance of that simple request._

_I smoked my entire pack that night, thinking only of one thing as the snowflakes kept falling: "One for the end, Draco. One for the end"_

…

I have forgotten how spring feels like...the colors, the scents. I have built all my life on my memories, and yet I have forgotten. It's nothing more than its ghost waiting at my doorstep every year, and I squeeze my eyes shut and run past it, because anything inferior to our springs together is a parody and not desired.

I will keep in my mind only that one morning of spring at that tiny café in Soho square where we used to spend our Sundays in the beginning of our time together. I had thrown my tobacco on the table next to that vase of freshly-cut, red and white fressias when I noticed you looking intensely at them. It made me smile. Draco Malfoy loved flowers. They were your weak point and you hated to be teased about it. Your fingers caressed the colorful petals, your touch feather-like and like nothing I had ever seen.

"They smell great" I said, walking on thin ice. One never knew what would ruin your mood. You smiled, your gaze still lost somewhere in the heart of that humble flower. I couldn't help but wonder what you were thinking about.

"Smell great? Heaven is trapped in these little things." You whispered almost inaudibly.

"Heaven? It's too tiny a thing to be able to hold Heaven captive, you know" I smiled and opened my tobacco, placing a filter tip between my lips.

"Heaven is in the little things." you said seriously and I looked up to find gray eyes looking straight at me. Your fingers moved and were suddenly on my lips, making me drop my filter. You smelled of fressias and cinnamon, your touch as gentle as I'd thought it'd be.

"I've been told that when you collect them all, no grief can ever touch you" you slid your finger across my bottom lip and I could feel my heart thundering against my chest. _He's going to kiss me in public._

"Here you go. There's heaven on your lips, Potter" next thing I felt was your mouth crushing on mine. That was the day I quit smoking for the first time.

I mustn't have gathered all my pieces of heaven. Because sorrow has come and sickness has come and absence has settled. That's the trick. Not everyone should have heaven, that's why the pieces are so hard to find. And yet I'd be content with half a heaven. Purgatory would do fine too. Anything but this hell.

The hardest part to stomach is that whatever I say, I am not certain about anything. I can only guess. And I want to know.

I grab a piece of enchanted parchment and summon my owl to tie it on its leg. "Malfoy's place" I tell it and it's done, the bird flies away into the darkness.

That's it, six years of denial ruined in a second, I never really forgot, my glass walls are shuttering and I am exposed to the cold, it's winter like always, it never stopped snowing, the skies are painted with a million different shades of grey to keep me interested but the fact is that I am not and never were, the only thing I was ever interested in were the clouds in your eyes and how much I hated wanting you, I hated myself for wanting to keep a wolf as a pet and offering up my flesh and heart and feeding to it willingly.

Curses would fly and hit the walls at nights, our yells nothing but fire, words were said and yet they meant nothing, I never really understood and I don't think you did either. I stare out my tiny window into the blackest night of my life and reach out for my absolution.

The die is finally cast. I will win my piece of Heaven, Malfoy.


	4. Denial

Denial: Failure is not an option

I'm thinking about Hell and the path that leads there. Is there a Hell for us, the creatures that create and destroy at will? Us who have denied everything we have been forsaken by, because no, you don't deny something offered easily, it's a difficult decision, and probably the wrong one. The paths that lead to Hell, are there many? Am I on the right one?

My enchanted piece of parchment moves and trembles and I grab a pen from my desk. I scribble wildly without really thinking.

"Draco?"

he doesn't answer back.

"Is that you?" I insist, you will answer, I will drag it out of you, I'll steal the words out of your hands and keep them as my trophy.

Gosh. What am I thinking?

"Potter" he states. I picture him in all his disdain, gifting it to me, and -the fool-, I feel honored. Potter. My name has never sounded this way in my head since we parted, and the thought that I've missed it is sending shivers up my spine.

"So it's 'Potter' again, huh?"

"Now more than ever"

Is that so.

"I see. Years have no effect on your mood. It's ok."

"Years have no effect on your character, either. What do you want?"

"I want to speak with you. Have a drink with me tomorrow" chances are what one must take.

"No"

I don't take no for an answer, do you not remember, Ice Prince?

"Muggle London, Soho Sq. 9 pm. There's a pub nearby, called the four Greyhounds. I will be waiting for you there"

He does not write back. I'm panicking. I cannot afford to panic.

"Draco"

A million words, thoughts, emotions I cannot control, fighting to be channeled through my pen and try to persuade you, but there are five ways to die really, and I choose denial, I choose it now, over expectations and ignorance and acceptance. Denial is the best it gets, it gives you power, the will to fight, to fight to win, and don't you say that you never fight to win because I will doubt you ability and not your desire. Everyone wants to be a winner. Even the greatest loser of all.

"I will wait until 10."

If it's a war you want, you'll only fight my shadow. Case is, even I am afraid of my shadow. It multiplies and haunts me and whispers bitter comments in the dark.

I will wait. That's what I always did, isn't it?

I remember the last time we quarreled. The day I was planning to propose to you. The last time I saw you. I remember the last words you spoke to me, pinning me to the wall. "Leave, then"

That was not what you were supposed to answer to "this is going nowhere". No, you were supposed to say: What are you talking about, we'll make it work, I love you, I love you, I love you.

But that was what you said.

But denial makes you feel powerful, and feeling powerful makes you silly, because how could I have forgotten, you were the prize and I was competing to be with you, competing against everything and nothing, I guess.

Denial…denial is a scary thing.


	5. Shadows and Gods

chapter's soundtrack : Electric city by Firewater

Denial

I met a guy once outside a bar. He was tall and handsome, around 27. His eyes were blue and his coat was long and tight at the waist. He smoked a cigar that didn't suit his style in the least, but did so with elegance. I met him on a Wednesday. I asked him where he was from and how long he'd been living in London.

He answered Italy, he looked around the alley, his eyes whispering 'homesick', and said: 16.

He asked me if I wanted to get a drink.

I said no. His hair was black.

Draco Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy._

Spoken three times to cast evil away.

Legend has it that shadows are representations of God's presence around an object. I think about that all the time. I glance at mine suspiciously, 5th beer in hand. I want no God here, go away, go away. It's not funny, watching me all the time. It seems to me my shadow is waiting for something. I shiver and look away.

Aren't we all.

Waiting.

For something.

What makes you special, God.

Ten o'clock. The more you delay the more drunk I'm gonna get, you sucker. Let's see you face THAT.

No, you can't handle me when I'm drunk. You never could. I would yell and you would sit down on your armchair, face in your hands, looking at me as if you pitied me, and I would scream – who do you think you are, pitting me, face your problems, face this Draco, deal with it, solve it, solve it, I can't…

I'm weak. I've earned the right to be, and the right has become a character trait.

Marry me.

Words that were never said, sitting on the edge of my tongue forever. Jumping up and down.

I tried to trap my shadow one night, to see how God would feel in a cage. A brush and black paint, Light from the street entering my living room, fag between my lips, something aggressive playing on the radio. Bar by bar, I painted my cage, and locked my God inside. I sat there for hours, watching him trapped, wondering if he'll try to leave, grab the bars and shake them in despair. I fell asleep right there, and when I woke up the morning had come and my shadow was resting on the carpet.

I realized then, God is the one that makes the cages and obviously knows the way out.

Ginny asked me about it in the morning. Said: "That's nice, did you do it?"

I said yes.

"What is it for?"

I said nothing, I said it's mine.

She frowned and I left.

Half past ten. 6th beer. He'll come, he'll be here.

10: 40.

I look up as the door creaks open. It's 158 cigarettes, 170 filter tips and 164 rolling papers, 38 pills of my cancer medicine and 16 bottles of whiskey since the night I found you outside my place. It's a million useless thoughts and a wedding ring of 6 years old inside the pocket of my coat. It's all that and the absence of my shadow. I dare not check.

I take it you thought I'd be gone by now.

You're unbelievable, you jerk.

He takes a sit and throws his gloves on the table. I smile, my eyes screaming hell and I hope it gets through to him. He does not speak, obviously realizing I'm drunk and chickening out.

"Why now?" I pick my questions in the last second, and I am not happy about it, I need a plan, I have no plan, I'm gonna lose this battle, am I not?

The waiter comes and he orders a beer, obviously thanking his lucky stars for the interruption.

"I don't understand you, I am afraid, Potter" he states, his calmness mask effectively on his face. Fucker!

"You don't!" a violent chuckle escapes me, scaring the shit out of him, no doubt. Malfoys hate a scene in public. "Ginny keeps pestering me since that night. A Malfoy showing up at our door! Why the hell would, Draco Malfoy of all people, knock on Harry Potter's door and comment on his couch! Are you fucking insane? Showing up after six years! Six whole years and commenting to my wife on my couch! What madness drove you to my house, Malfoy? Are you finally clinically insane? What do the Healers say, is there no hope? Should I kill you myself to rid you of your misery?"

He stares at me, looking confused. He does not speak for a while, making my anger seethe even more.

"Are you done?"

"It was a mistake. Showing up at your door. I do not know how I got there, and believe me, if I had a rational explanation I would use it, even if it was a lie. Truth is, I do not know why. There goes my dignity."

Huh? What is that? I have no answer to that, what does that even mean? What does it mean? Puzzles, no time for puzzles, no time really.

"Are we done here? My wife's waiting for me"

Tsk. Your wife. As if you even care.

Does that mean you were thinking about me? No time.

No time.

"It's been a long time" I state instead of a question.

"Yeah" he answers quite naturally. 'Jesus of the moon' is playing in the background and his hair is beautiful. His lips. His hands. I loved his hands.

"Are you happy, Potter?"

What? A trap. I do not fall into traps.

"What does that concern _you?"_

Yeah. I would like it if I didn't fall into traps. Who cares?

"Well I figured since you left me to start up a family, I should ask about your happiness. I think poor Ginny would be very annoyed to wake up one morning and find you gone. So answer me, Potter, honestly this last time, are you happy?"

I'm gonna punch him. Sweet Merlin I'm gonna punch him!

I stand up. I will spit on him. No, punch him.

"At least I've stopped hurting"

Really? That's the best I can do? I storm out of the pub, the cold air hitting my face and the heavy rain soaking me in seconds. I make a turn for the alley on the right.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou I destroyed my life, is that all you can say?

I hear footsteps behind me and turn around. How dare you follow me, how dare you hurt us again. Hurt us.

Us. Since when are we two in this ordeal.

"You turned me into this! You! With your arrogance and your disdain and your anger!" I walk towards him and grab him by the neck of his coat.

"You're so beautiful"

What? I spit at his face. At his beautiful face.

"Fuck you!" I scream, what are you talking about, don't tease me, don't kill me, don't drag me back to the expectations phase, this is my denial, I'm over it, I'm over it.

"Kiss me" he whispers.

The world stops for a millisecond. In that millisecond I'm 21 again. I live at Amelia Street. The ring is in my pocket. Your wish is my command.

"You were always absent, Malfoy. Always gone. Always cold. You're warm now. You're warm" My hands seek his skin, and it's still so soft, his touch is so demanding, his mouth is marking me as it always did, I was his back then, but things have changed, he let me go, so why is this happening, why is my head so heavy, why would I bend over for him so easily. Where is my pride. Where is his.

"Do you know what I've been doing for six years, Malfoy?" he kisses me on the mouth, as if knowing what I want to say and trying to stop me, but I don't stop, I never stop.

"I've been at every gay club in muggle London, every fucking Saturday night. Looking for a blond guy that looked enough like you, and I've had them all, I don't think there are any left, but they never felt like you, they never did, they never did…"

He goes rigid in my arms. I hear my expectations shutter and fall to the ground in tiny little pieces. I'm back to denial.

"No"

No thoughts, really.

He pulls away.

"Goodbye, Potter" I watch him turning around to leave. That damn thing in my pocket feels so terribly heavy.

"You'll never see me again" I whisper against my better judgment. I have no explanations to give.

"Yeah, I figured that" he answers back, humor in his voice.

'I do not think you have' is the last thing that leaves my lips.

I take a final look at the man that has been shaping my days for 10 years. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize, he has no shadow.

I search the pavements and I search the walls, until my eyes give up and remain glued on the back of his black shoes. The sight of his back moving away from me seems to be his parting gift, because the poison on my lips is certainly revenge and revenge alone.

I catch myself praying to God to not forsake my man.

I feel somewhat melodramatic.


	6. Acceptance

_Chapter's soundtrack : Someone like you - Adele_

**Acceptance**

When my son was 4 years old, he put a playmobile figure in a plastic bowl filled with water, and put it in the freezer for a day and a half. I found it there, its feet above the surface of the ice, face hitting the bottom, hands on its sides. I took it to him and asked him about it. He looked at it and smiled, throwing his hands in the air and looking all excited.

"It's frozen, it's frozen! Mom, come look!"

I felt my head numb and an uneasy feeling spread through my system. I touched the little toy and tried to take it out of the ice although I knew I couldn't.

I thought of you then.

It's been three weeks since that night at the Pub. It's been three weeks since I put that same figure in that water-filled bowl and in the freezer once more.

I've been coughing a lot lately. I guess the cancer potion is really not working if I keep smoking and they were not messing with me when they demanded I quit. I guess I should be glad the pain is subtle and does not make me want to scream. The kids would be terribly upset.

I still do not think a lot about what happened. I think that can be proven by the fact that I had been pestering you with blank pieces of parchment every single night for a week. But that meaningless thing is over now.

We're not kids anymore, Draco.

This is not a game.

I'm not having fun.

Ginny does not know about my disease, and neither does Hermione or Ron.

They say I should quit smoking; it makes me look all sick.

I tell them that then I would have to quit many things.

I'm having this last smoke and then I'll head home and pack my stuff. I'll check in a nice little muggle hospital as if it were a hotel, stop taking my potions.

There's a difference between giving up and accepting.

I can't seem to put my finger on it.

This cigarette is all I have left. Not in the world, but in my heart. I'm not one to say that nobody was ever by my side. It's just that…I did not want those willing to be.

_Once, during one of our night-time strolls through the park, you looked at me and smiled bitterly. I said "what is it?" you said "nothing. It's just that sometimes you seem like a guy who would miss his smokes more than he'd miss his lovers"_

_My eyes went wide and I chuckled in disbelief. "What?"_

"_What? That's what I was thinking about"_

"_You think of silly things"_

"_That's why I never tell you what I'm thinking about." You frowned and looked away._

"_Oh come on, Draco, I didn't mean it that way and you know it"_

"…"

"_What?"_

'_Would you? Miss this more than us, I mean"_

_I put my hands on both sides of your face and made you look at me, the smile on my lips refusing to diminish. _

"_If we'd ever part, I'd count my pain in smokes, you fool."_

"_Would you, really?"_

"_yes" I whispered._

"_Take a drag of it" _

_I put the cigarette between my lips and did as you ordered._

"_Now kiss me"_

_I threw my smoke away and grabbed your hair, pulling you close, making our lips touch, feeling your hands circle my waist and hold me tight as the smoke entered your mouth and you shivered, for a moment trying to pull away from me but then regretting it and groaning in my mouth right before my mind went completely blank._

Ah, it's over now. I thought I'd never reach acceptance.

All of the things I thought they'd never happen have come to pass. All the things I've loved I've grown to hate, all the things I wanted to forget have lingered. And I can finally say that that's ok.

I don't care.

I left a note on Ginny's bedside table, grabbed my suitcase and left.

It read: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

And I truly am.

It's just that I can't fight it anymore. Whatever it was, love, obsession, reaction, persistence, lust, fire, it's silenced now. It has no strength to scream and it will not settle for merely speaking.

I hardly miss you that much now. My fingers reach for our would-be wedding ring in my pocket.

I open the door of my apartment and grab my tobacco from the counter. The hallway is lit by the street lamp alone. I look behind me, my shadow stretched to an unbelievable point, reaching the far wall and climbing in its painted cage.

"Are you coming along?" I whisper to it, waiting for an actual reply. I take a step ahead and out of my home, but my shadow is glued to the spot and unyielding.

Another one.

It does not move.

I look down at my shoes, shivering when I realize the link is gone, my God has forsaken me. And yet I refuse to believe in legends. "So be it" I whisper to it and close the door behind me. From this moment on, I walk completely alone.

The night is long. I will go back to Amelia street, have a smoke on our doorstep, throw my medication in that dumpster. The weatherman had said that this week would be sunny, but it's not. It's been drizzling all day. It seems to me that spring won't come ever again. I chuckle when I realize how true this sentence is.

Unfortunately the pain is becoming unbearable. I feel as if I'm a thousand years old, I'm having trouble breathing. But I'm there, and looking up at our apartment is more than physical pain, so I light another smoke. A cool breeze is blowing and I look at the balcony thinking I can almost see you there, so young and proud and beautiful, so very much mine.

I'm crying.

I remember you lips, your eyes, your voice, your touch, every single sentence you ever spoke to me, I remember.

I remember eternity as if I've actually lived through it.

I feel a million daggers pierce my lungs and I suddenly can't stop coughing.

There's blood on the street.

I take another look at our place and realize it's empty. No curtains, dust and rust eat away at the railings of our balcony. I smile to myself and unlock the door with my wand.

The place is dark, dusty, and looks forgotten by God himself. My heart flutters in my ribcage as if trying to get out. There are still some of our furniture here, half-broken and torn, sad remains of a confused time. The owners had not cared for our stuff in the least. And why should they have had.

The bar, the monks bench, the bookshelf, the sofa…

The sofa.

I ignore the pain and walk towards it, leaving my suitcase on the floor. I bet if I can get close enough I'll be able to hear your whispers through the torn fabric.

Every pore in my body screams 'why', why did we fail so badly, you had said you did not know how to lose but I guess you lost anyway out of sheer luck.

With a wave of my wand I open the window to the balcony, although I feel terribly cold. The rain is heavier now and forming small puddles on our wooden floor.

_"Well I figured since you left me to start up a family, I should ask about your happiness. I think poor Ginny would be very annoyed to wake up one morning and find you gone. So answer me, Potter, honestly this last time, are you happy?"_

The irony is almost too much to take.

Have I always been one to let people down?

I'm coughing again. It's getting harder to breathe and my legs feel weak. There is less time than I thought.

All I can do is cry, I cry for my heart, I cry for the pain in your eyes, I cry for the world that made me scared of being who I was and of wanting what I wanted.

I cry for the pots of jasmine by the windows, for the moonflower, for the pieces of Heaven that I'll never find and for those I grasped and will have to follow me in Hell.

I take my wedding ring out and throw it out the windows, cursing and crying and pitying myself.

I made my choices. I had my expectations. I failed. I fell. I rose again. I took my chances and I played the game.

I would like to tell you so many things. I guess I could have, but I…I don't really want to. I'm afraid that I misunderstood. I'm afraid you did not miss me at all. I'm afraid that fear always wins in the end.

I'm getting dizzy.

I lie down on our green couch, taking the ring I never gave you out of my pocket and putting it on. I don't care if Ginny will finally understand. I don't care if word will come out about our little apartment at Amelia Street.

I don't care because spring won't come ever again.

I listen to the rain fall. Everything else is dead quiet.

I roll my last cigarette, doubting that I'll be able to even smoke it.

The daggers are back, piercing my lungs and making me cough blood. I leave the cigarette on the table and focus on casting away the pain. I wasn't ready for this. This is too soon.

I had thought I might drop by your place one last time. I had thought I could perhaps write to you for real if I felt like it. But this is the end and I still don't know if I feel like it.

This is too soon.

I had never thought I'd ever be so tired of breathing.

I will not die in denial. So…I guess I forgive you. And I'm glad you'll never get to ask what for. There is no God in acceptance. Perhaps that's where you were standing all along.

I'm dying with a smile on my face, because I am now certain that back then I was indeed, somebody you loved.

My family will hate me, my friends will despise me, and the world will say I was a coward, a cheater, a selfish excuse for a man.

So I hope that you, at least, will remember me as your little piece of Heaven. Your pitiful little piece of Heaven.

* * *

_no ending should ever be bitter : 'End credits' song' : I think I need a new heart- the magnetic fields._

* * *

I thank each and every one that took the time to review for these two stories, 'Your ex-lover is dead' and 'Five ways to die'. These two little things are the first stories that actually have my heart and soul. So yes, thank you, it has meant a lot to me.

This chapter isn't nearly as good as I had wanted it to be, but that's ok.

This story began as a tribute to the past and became what it is because of Never_A_Morning_Person.

It's been raining a lot. So I thought that perhaps when I finish this, spring will come for me again .

All I want to say and I don't know why I'm actually saying it here, is...

fall in love with everything you've got.

One day, I will reach acceptance. _But in the end, it's not about you.I miss myself, you know._

Yeah. It's done now.


End file.
